Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Poem: "Winter Texans"

I don’t belong in this place so far from snow,the palm trees and calm waters outside an absolute lie about winter or spring, for that matter.The gulls, loons, and an occasional pelican

wheel overhead. A few flap down

to the waters of this canal.I shiver, caught up in some bone memory of cold.The days of this respite pass too quickly;I remain caught by half-remembered routine.And when we return north, it will be as if we had never lived by the Gulf in the warm February sun, as if we never saw the mermaid nor swam in the sea.

This week's poem is a rather melancholy entry for Valentine's Day.

Don't you prefer e. e. cummings?

love is more thicker than forgetmore thinner than recallmore seldom than a wave is wetmore frequent than to fail